


Supernatural Apocalypse

by kronette



Category: Stonehenge Apocalypse (2010), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-13
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, my brain was obviously sleep-deprived and cracked-out as I watched <i>Stonehenge Apocalypse</i> last night – both viewings on Sci-Fi (I refuse to use the new call letters). So, I give you to, gentle readers, the crossover of Jacob Glaser of <i>Stonehenge Apocalypse </i>and Castiel of <i>Supernatural.</i> Because you all thought it, too. This is actually placed before what we saw in <i>Stonehenge</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

“This is Doctor Jacob Glaser, signing off.”

Jacob turned off the radio feed, then removed his headphones and powered down all the equipment. Snagging his empty plate and coffee mug, he trudged up the stairs, cursing himself for – again – forgetting to turn on a light upstairs.

He took four steps and slid his elbow along the right wall until he felt the switchplate, then snapped on the light, wincing at the sudden brightness.

The dishes clattered in the kitchen sink where he dropped them. Even though the time was well past midnight, he popped open a bottle of beer and took a swig as he made his way into the living room. Digging the remote out of the couch, he clicked on the TV and settled back to watch CNN. Nothing like some real, depressing news to counterbalance the strangeness of his every day life.

He eyed the mail piled up on the coffee table and decided a week wait was long enough to plow through it all. He grabbed a handful and his pocketknife and began slicing open envelopes. Junk, bill, more junk – he began sorting into piles.

“Castiel, angel of the Lord.”

He blinked. Did he just hear that reporter correctly? He rewound his TiVo and listened intently, but nothing that even remotely sounded like ‘angel’ or ‘Lord’ came through. Odd. Keeping an ear open for any more strange phrases, he continued to sort the mail. He snorted at a flyer for a local dry cleaner: ‘We’ll make your clothes smell like heaven!’ He tossed it into the recycle pile. After several more junk pieces and flyers, he began to notice a pattern. He was good at patterns. A dollar off a heavenly slice of our angel food cake from the bakery a few blocks down. A notice from no less than four churches, warning him that the End was Nigh and to repent his sins, but not before giving the equally freaky prayer that angels were watching over him. A petition to rename a street downtown to ‘Angel Avenue’. An opening flyer for the new store ‘Heavenly Delights’.

What the hell was going on? He retrieved the flyer he’d tossed into recycling and stacked up all the papers that mentioned heaven or angels. It was easily 2/3 of the mail he’d received that week. Mind racing, he hauled the kitchen recycling bin into the middle of the kitchen floor and dumped it out. Bottles and cans were shoved against the cabinets as he opened letter after flyer, setting aside the ones that mentioned heaven or angels. All of them. Every single scrap of paper he’d recycled in the past two weeks.

“What the hell?” he muttered to himself as he raked his hand through his hair. He rested his elbow on his upturned knee and surveyed the piles of papers, wondering what it meant.

=-=-=-=

“Jacob, my man, you ready for a night on the town?”

Jacob held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he typed in more search terms on his laptop. “Not tonight, Joseph. I’m in the middle of something.”

He heard Joseph’s long-suffering sigh. “Come on, man. You can’t stay in that basement all the time. You’re growing mold down there, and trust me, mold isn’t a smell ladies care for.”

“It never bothered you,” Jacob tossed back with ease, eyes flicking from the keyboard to the screen, never missing a beat.

“I felt sorry for the newbie socially-inadequate genius,” Joseph teased.

“The only socially inadequate one at MIT was you,” he taunted right back. Search terms complete, he hit ‘enter’ and turned away from the monitor, picking the phone back up with his hand. “All right, I’ve got a search going. I can meet you for a few hours if you want.”

“Be still my heart,” Joseph mocked, and Jacob really wished he was there so he could stick his tongue out petulantly.

“Look, you want to go out or not?”

“How could I refuse such a heartfelt plea? Meet you at The Champaign in twenty.”

Despite its name, The Champaign was a plain old bar that served plain old beer. It was also the place the local eggheads hung out, so the atmosphere was great for debate. “Twenty minutes, not a second more,” Jacob warned, grunting at Jacob’s ‘hmph.’

“Last one there’s buying the first round.”

Jacob hung up without answering and raced up the steps two at a time, tossing the phone onto the couch on his way to the bedroom. He wrinkled his nose as he caught a whiff of himself. Yeah, he’d be late because he desperately needed a shower.

Rubbing the towel through his wet hair, he surveyed his closet and selected a t-shirt and two button-ups, though as he started to button the first one up, his hands just – stopped. Like it was wrong; like they weren’t _supposed_ to be buttoned.

Why was he even wearing this outfit? Jeans ripped at the knees, ratty boots and _three_ shirts? What was he thinking? He was going _out_ – at least a nicer shirt with the jeans would be better. But he couldn’t help but feel incredibly comfortable in the outfit, so with a shrug, he left it. As he searched his dresser top for his watch, his eyes fell on his Prevolos award. It was gaudy as all hell but it meant a lot to him. He’d put it on a chain a few months after receiving it, but he hadn’t gotten the courage up to wear it. Now, it seemed natural to slip it over his head and feel the weight of it against his chest.

He spied his watch behind a rolled-up sock and quickly placed it on his wrist. He snagged his car keys and cell phone on the way out the door, driving the car too fast through the streets to try to beat Joseph to the bar.

=-=-=-=-=

Castiel.

That name had haunted him all night. As he and Joseph debated with the newest batch of eggheads, Jacob couldn’t help but hear that word whispered in the conversations around him. It was making his skin crawl. He’d even called it an early night because he just _could not stop thinking about that word_.

He locked the door behind him, tossed his keys and phone on the table by the door and headed straight to his laptop in the living room. He immediately searched for “Castiel” and the first page that popped up caused his stomach to knot.

###  [Angel Information - Angels365.com](http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&cd=10&ved=0CEcQFjAJ&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.angels365.com%2Fangelinfo.asp%3FID%3D883&rct=j&q=castiel&ei=qnkVTKywB4SgnweYyZyADA&usg=AFQjCNEuEGnES1EJg2qlf4mYCrSYL268Og)

_Castiel_ is an Angel of Thursday and will help anyone born on this day or anyone who asks for help on this day. The Angel can help us if there are changes in **...**

Why was he hearing an angel’s name? Freaked out despite his logical mind trying to find correlations and explanations, he headed downstairs to check on that search. Dozens of odd reports of black smoke or people with black eyes directly after some human tragedy. People waking up in hospitals all over the country with strange memories of killing people and tales of possession. Even reports of strange-shaped bodies or skeletons of unidentified animals being found across the country had his skin crawling. Something wasn’t right. Something was very _wrong,_ and he heard the name again, whispered directly into his ear, “Castiel.”

“Holy shit!” he screamed and jumped up, but no one was behind him. He was still alone in his basement. He was clenching the edge of the desk so hard his fingertips hurt, eyes wide as he scanned the basement, but he couldn’t detect anyone with him. Besides, the third stair squeaked horribly and _no one_ came down here but him.

=-=-=-=-=

Despite his reputation for telling “The Truth”, he was reluctant to bring up his newest theory with his callers. He needed more time to research, to find a stronger pattern than just this angel’s name and the Revelation-esque things that he was uncovering by the day on his searches. He was used to labels such as crackpot or crazy, but he always did thorough research and never presented ideas prematurely.

The latest to pop up on his radar was Elizabethville, Ohio, where a mass slaughter appeared to have happened. Other reports of group deaths began to come through, some a few years old, some only by weeks, but he was getting creeped out the more he learned. And that damned angel’s name kept following him around.

As he scanned the latest report from St. Louis – though it was a few years old – his eyes locked on the police sketch of the original suspect. The sketch looked like a typical serial killer, complete with hard eyes and no-nonsense air about him, but Jacob had other, stronger reactions to the man’s face. How could that be, when he didn’t even know who the guy was? How could he know the guy loved pie, like would _marry_ pie if it were legal, had a soft spot for his family – _what family?_ – and completely fell to mush when kids were involved. Kids involved in _what_? All the bad shit he’d been reading about? How was the guy involved? Jacob scrolled through the report until he came across a name, and it was like something was set ablaze in his chest. “Castiel,” called the voice again, whispered through his head as he stared at the letters that made up the name: Dean Winchester.

=-=-=-=-=

He spent the day curled up in bed, ignoring the phone and the sunlight blinding him through the window. He clutched his Prevolos award in his hand and it calmed him somewhat, though he didn’t know why. He didn’t know anything, any more. He’d fallen asleep in his clothes – three layers of shirts and ratty jeans again, though at least the boots were lying in the middle of the floor. Why did that make him feel _better_? Safer? What was there to be safe _from_?

What was happening to him? Why was that angel’s name following him around? He hadn’t made a connection between this Dean Winchester, the biblical stories he was uncovering and the angel. But he _knew_ they were all connected. He knew he was a genius and wasn’t hindered by words like “impossible” or “unbelievable”. His logic took him where it would, where the truth would be revealed, and whatever that truth turned out to be, he knew it was right.

The possibility that the Revelations-like horrors he’d read about were _the_ actual Revelations, apocalyptic- _now_ signs, was terrifying. Was he really reading the end of the world? That didn’t explain how this Dean fit into it. He’d been a murder suspect, but for the life of him, Jacob just couldn’t reconcile that image with the Dean he somehow _knew_.

Then the nightmares started and he felt like he was losing his mind.

Hell. It had to be Hell, with the flames and heat and unbearable weight of helplessness that consumed him. Metal spikes protruded from every patch of skin. The skin was flayed from his body, then the muscle and sinew and finally his bones were turned to ash, all the while he was _aware_. He felt every torment as though it were his own, but he _knew_ it couldn’t be. He knew it _wasn’t_ , because he was looking through someone else’s eyes at a blinding light amidst the agony. It flickered and threatened to be consumed by the darkness and blood surrounding it, but he _Castiel_ gripped the blinding light’s shoulder and they were airborne, _up and away_ , though direction had no mean. Nothing had meaning in Hell, but this man meant the world. Literally.

Blood was on Dean’s hands, and Jacob saw it through a small square. A window in a door, staring at a man crucified against a board covered with strange symbols _that he could read_. Blood dripped from the bound man’s mouth, but he had no visible wounds. Blood-soaked tears in the bound man’s clothes, but no wounds beneath them. Dean tortured the bound man, and Jacob felt sorrow fill his entire being as he watched. He _watched_ and felt something wrong and did nothing, and then the bound man broke free and was _killing_ Dean, and Jacob _Castiel_ could stand by no more.

He felt this _pull_ on every fiber of his being, like being called home, but he didn’t want to go. “Castiel, you must return,” said the voice, but he resisted. He curled up tighter in bed and willed that voice away. He had to save Dean. Dean was being killed and he had to stop it.

The bound man – _Alistair_ – was trying to send Castiel back to heaven, but he wouldn’t go. He was there to protect Dean – must protect Dean at all costs – but Alistair was stronger. Then someone appeared who was stronger than Alistair, and Castiel watched as Dean’s little brother killed Alistair. With his mind.

Jacob burst into hysterical laughter, because no matter what he’d seen, no matter his hypotheses, _no one_ could kill someone with the power of their mind. It was absurd. Yet, it was what he saw in his mind’s eye, and he knew he was going crazy. All of his detractors had been right; he was certifiable and needed to be put away before he hurt himself or someone else.

He laughed again and tears fell from his eyes as he rocked back and forth. Where was Joseph? Why hadn’t he been by to check up on him? Here he was, losing his mind, and his best friend was nowhere to be seen.

He continued to lie in bed, letting the strange and impossible images float through his mind until the sun set again. He crawled out of bed when his stomach started to cramp from hunger. He found himself making a huge sandwich and sipping a beer, but just shrugged and took them into the living room, turning on the TV once again.

And the hysterical laughter bubbled in his throat once again as the reporter’s first words were, “Castiel, it’s time.”

He rotated through the channels, but no matter where he turned, that damned angel was there. Sometimes he caught a glimpse of Dean, not the sketch but _Dean,_ behind the wheel of a car or with a gun in his hand. He saw Dean’s little brother once, but the image had been so dark that he’d blanked his mind immediately. Despite the roiling of his stomach, he finished the sandwich and got himself another two beers from the fridge. He decided to watch a comedy, because surely a comedy couldn’t have angels or Dean or Hell, right?

The standard living room set up of a couch facing an off-camera TV filled the screen and he started to relax. Then, a redheaded woman turned to stare directly out of the television at him. “Your punishment is ended, Castiel. It’s time to return home.”

Instinctually, he screamed, “No!” and hurled the bottle in his hands at the TV, sending sparks flying in all directions.

“I’m an angel of the Lord,” spoke Castiel to Dean, as sparks rained down on the angel from the shattered barn lights.

“Get out of my head!” Jacob screamed as a high-pitched whine pierced his ears and his house started to shake. He covered his ears but the sound intensified, as did the shaking. Pure, white light filled the room and his last thought was that he would be blinded.

=-=-=-=-=

Castiel stood in the center of a circle of his superiors, but wouldn’t meet any of their gazes. He didn’t need to; his soul was read easily enough.

“God does not like to inflict punishment, Castiel, but He must do so to maintain order,” spoke Raphael, and Castiel nodded as was appropriate. He kept his thoughts close, too close for even the archangels to overhear.

“You may return to your charge, but Castiel,” Anna warned, “Do not disobey again. Dean Winchester’s fate was prophesized long ago and cannot be changed.”

“I will not disobey or interfere,” he stated through a dry mouth, though in Heaven he had no real mouth. It was the lingering effects of Jacob, the vessel he’d been forced into. The scientist whose life had been destroyed in order to punish an angel for disobedience in favor of a charge. “What of Jacob?” he asked. “Will he remember any of this?”

“No,” said Zachariah. “God does not punish the vessel, only the angel who disobeys. Jacob Glaser will go about his life with no knowledge of this affair.”

Castiel voiced his approval. He did not want to be the cause of another being’s pain. Jacob had a good heart and soul, and didn’t deserve what he’d been put through. Those thoughts Castiel kept very close, indeed.

“You will be returned to Earth, but not Jimmy Novak.”

He blinked. “Why? Jimmy has served God well.”

“He has served God well,” Anna agreed, “But he is losing favor. Jimmy has cursed your name for not keeping your promise to keep his family safe. You must return and restore his faith.”

He didn’t understand. “Then return me to Jimmy.”

“That cannot happen. You will return to Claire, Jimmy’s offspring.” He could voice no other opinion as his essence was channeled to speak directly to Claire, who was tied up and looked terrified. _What have I allowed to happen?_ thought Castiel, then set about to calm Claire down. He spoke of who he was, that he’d already met her in her father, and needed her permission to save Jimmy and her mother. She granted consent, and Castiel poured his essence into Claire Novak, just as the demons returned.

Claire was tied to a chair and forced to watch as first Jimmy, then Dean and Sam were brought into the room. The demon-possessed Amelia was rambling about her great plans, and then she raised a gun and shot Jimmy – Castiel felt Claire’s despair and tried to soothe her as best he could. A fight broke out among the humans and demons while Jimmy bled out onto the floor. As a demon approached Claire, Castiel sent it back to Hell with a touch.

Castiel knelt next to the dying Jimmy Novak and sent up a prayer of comfort. Mindful of his superiors watching him, Castiel told Jimmy it was time to rest; that Claire would serve as his vessel and that Jimmy had earned his peace in Heaven.

Jimmy surprised him with his vehemence, demanding that Castiel take him instead, to spare his daughter. Castiel waited, but felt no objection from his superiors, so he granted Jimmy’s request, healing his vessel as he once again took possession of Jimmy’s body.

The muffled and muted gratitude from Jimmy did not lighten the heaviness of his heart as he observed Dean and Sam watching him. He glanced at Amelia and Claire and felt the affection Jimmy had for them, but that was all. He couldn’t bear to look at them, at the knowledge of the danger they’d been placed in as punishment for caring too much.

It was with the coldness of Uriel’s voice that he answered Dean’s question, “I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean. I serve Heaven, I don't serve Man. And I certainly don't serve you.”

The End


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel stood outside Jacob’s house as his radio show began broadcasting, and his heart fell as the theme became clear.

Castiel visited Jacob once, while he continued his search for God. He remembered Zachriah’s promise that Jacob would remember nothing from Castiel’s imprisonment, but since Zachariah was rooting _for_ the Apocalypse, Castiel had little hope that Jacob would be spared.

The angel was mildly surprised to see Jacob’s attire was reminiscent of Dean’s. That didn’t bode well for Jacob’s memories being erased. Castiel stood outside Jacob’s house as his radio show began broadcasting, and his heart fell as the theme became clear.

“...the truth, tonight, ladies and gentlemen, is all about angels and demons. Before you –“ Jacob laughed, “Okay, _while_ you’re calling in, let me explain what I mean. I’ve been doing research for months on phenomena around the country; around the world, even, and it’s pointing to one thing: the existence of demons and angels. Now why would make such a claim when I’m a scientist? Aren’t religion and science separate? Not so, my friends, and here’s why. Demons give off EM fields. Now they’re low, but they exist. I’ve been following up on some local hot spots and I’ve documented these fields when demons have been present. Ah, how do I know they’re demons? Let’s look at the stories, shall we?”

And to Castiel’s horror, Jacob rattled off scores of hunts that not only Dean and Sam had led, but other hunters in the immediate area. It sounded like Jacob had backtracked his research as far back as the internet would let him, and then the local library assisted him where electronics could not. He could not let this continue, but he felt a pull of sympathy for Jacob Glaser, as his temporary prison/vessel. It was not this human’s fault that his memories weren’t fully erased.

Castiel, for lack of better word, ‘recorded’ Jacob’s air wave signal and popped in on Dean and Sam in Iowa, where they were currently experiencing ‘down time’ after hunting a werewolf.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean acknowledged his appearance, while Sam sent him a nod.

“You must listen to this,” Castiel declared as he tuned the radio beside the bed to Jacob’s signal.

“…People are waking up in hospitals all across the country with no knowledge of how they got there. Some are claiming possession while others just fall catatonic after several minutes of lucidity. The odd twist to this story is that _every single time_ , the police show up and arrest them for murder! Caller, talk to me.”

“Ever hear about temporary amnesia?” the caller sneered. “Sounds like these people were just whack jobs who finally went around the bend. They all deserve to fry.”

Jacob growled into his mic. “ _Tell me_ you don’t believe the statistical odds of impossibility that 100% of these…victims…are murders? All of them, without fail?”

A dial tone was his answer, and Jacob muttered, “Good riddance,” under his breath.

Castiel turned down the sound as both Dean and Sam were on their feet, staring at him.

“Who is this guy?” Dean demanded, already tossing his things into the duffel bag.

Castiel hesitated to bring up the angels’ involvement in Jacob’s life, so he chose to ignore it for now. “He is a radio talk show host in Massachusetts. He claims to speak only the truth, and now his truth is about the existence of demons.”

Dean sighed. “Super.”

Sam was more practical; he opened his laptop and fixed his gaze on Castiel. “I assume you know the guy’s name?”

“Doctor Jacob Glaser.” Castiel knew then what Sam was going to search for, and assisted by adding, “The Real Story.”

Sam must have gotten to the page, because he whistled as his eyes scanned the page. “This guy’s a genius. Like, _really_ a genius. So why’s he doing some underground radio show about demons?”

Castiel was growing increasingly uncomfortable with Sam’s queries. He was beginning to wonder why he’d even brought Jacob to their attention, when an argument on the radio caused him to turn it back up.

“..you may not like it, but this is a free radio broadcast. I’m only reporting the truth.”

“The truth can get you killed, Doctor Glaser,” stated the caller, and Castiel could hear the demonic tone intertwined with the voice.

“Yeah, well, I’m still here and,” there was a snap, “You’re not! Next caller, what do you have to say about demons?”

“I’d say they’re here to have a good time, Jacob,” purred a woman’s sexy voice. Castiel caught the twin frowns on Dean and Sam’s faces as they realized how much Jacob was in danger. The woman continued, “After all, shouldn’t you all be partying like it’s 1999?”

Jacob’s chuckle was weak and died off quickly. “Right.” The faint snap was heard, and Jacob’s weary voice intoned, “I think that’s enough for tonight, folks. This is Doctor Jacob Glaser, signing off.”

“We must go to him immediately,” Castiel urged, stepping forward to transport both Winchesters to Massachusetts.

“Wait!” Dean said. “We don’t know anything about this guy. So what if a crackpot spouts off about demons?”

“You heard the callers, Dean,” Sam interjected. “Those last two were demons. This guy’s in trouble. We have to help him.”

Dean hesitated a minute, then threw his t-shirt into the duffel angrily. “I guess we’re driving to Massachusetts.”

=-=-=-=-=

Two bleary days later, Castiel directed the Winchesters to Jacob’s house. “It’s the last house on the left,” he stated, then teleported out of the car onto Jacob’s front lawn. He frowned up at the house, feeling a strange discharge in the air.

“Dean! Sam, hurry!” he shouted as he teleported inside the house

It took a precious few seconds to locate Jacob in the kitchen, scrambling away from a short woman with coal-black eyes. Jacob had blood running into his eyes from a head wound and was babbling incoherently.

“I’m not doing anything to you! You’re not even supposed to be real. This is some sick prank by Joseph, isn’t it? Or did the government put you up to this? I knew they wouldn’t leave me alone for long. I’m getting to close to their secrets, aren’t I? Wait, was Bush a demon? That would explain _so much_ …”

At Castiel’s presence in the room, the demon turned to him and smirked. “Aw, looky here. A pretty angel to watch over you. Too bad he’s a weakling.” The demon charged and Castiel met the attack strongly, forcing the demon’s hand away from his forehead.

He muttered the Enochian exorcism under his breath as he struggled to maintain his hold on the demon. The arrival of the Winchesters distracted the demon just enough that Castiel was able to finish the exorcism and send the demon back to hell. The woman dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Sam knelt by her and felt for a pulse. Castiel knew before Sam breathed a sigh of relief and stated, “She’s alive.”

“Uh, Cas? Mind explaining this?” Dean asked, and Castiel felt heat on his vessel’s cheeks. Dean was staring at Jacob, who was staring at Castiel, both with looks of shock on their faces.

“Cas? Not…Castiel,” Jacob said as he slowly rose to his feet, supporting himself on the kitchen table. “No, you can’t be.”

For the first time in his existence, Castiel cursed the name of an angel. Zachariah would be made to pay for his arrogance. “I am the angel, Castiel,” he confirmed, then looked away. “I am sorry for the hurt I have caused you.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up from Jacob, whose gaze flicked between the three men in his kitchen. “You’re really an angel. And that was really a demon. And you’re _real_. Holy shit.”

“Yeah, it’s a laugh riot,” Dean snarked. “Now who the hell are you and why do you look like Jimmy…and me?” Dean added as though an afterthought.

Castiel let out a small groan as he realized that Jacob was wearing an almost identical outfit to Dean’s, except Jacob still wore his necklace. “Dean, I have much to explain.”

“Better make it fast, because if one demon knows where this guy lives, the rest are bound to turn up.”

As the Winchesters salted the windowsills and doorways, Castiel explained as best he could how his punishment was to be locked away inside an Earth-bound vessel. That part of his punishment included being silenced while Jimmy’s family was in danger. That Zachariah had broken his promise to erase all of Jacob’s memories of that time.

“Zach’s a real peach,” Dean snarled under his breath, and while Castiel agreed with Dean’s tone, he had other worries.

“What if demons aren’t the only beings who are upset at Jacob’s broadcast? What if the other angels hear of it? Or other hunters?”

Jacob was sitting at the kitchen table holding a bag of frozen carrots to his head and muttering, “Holy shit,” over and over again, but he sat up at that. “Wait. I’ve got more of these things coming after me? Not just demons? What would angels want with me? I’ve barely mentioned them in my show.”

“But you intended to bring up their existence within the next few broadcasts,” Castiel stated, not inquired, and Jacob flushed and set the bag of carrots back on his head.

“So what if I was? Shouldn’t you guys be happy someone is telling the truth about your existence? Shouldn’t that make God happy, that more people believe in It?”

“God’s on vacation,” Dean snapped as he finished up salting the kitchen door and recapped the container. “Out playing skeeball or some shit. And the angels aren’t taking too kindly to us humans, nowadays.”

“What does that mean?” Jacob asked, suspicious. “There’s something else going on. Tell me, damn it. This is my life that’s being messed up!”

“Jacob, the Apocalypse has begun.”

“Geez, Cas, just blurt it on out there, why don’t you?” Dean turned a chair around and straddled it, then looked Jacob in the eye. “Yeah, Heaven’s out to turn Earth into Paradise, wiping out the human race in the process. You know how Cas said you were a vessel? That you could contain his essence or whatever?”

Despite the wide eyes, Jacob nodded slowly. “I’m the vessel for the archangel Michael. My brother, there,” Dean acknowledged Sam’s emergence into the kitchen with a nod, “Is Lucifer’s vessel. It’s the end of the world as we know it.”

Jacob gaped at them all, one by one, then burst into laughter. “Okay, really. This has been great, but you can tell Joseph that the fun’s over. It’s time to pack up and go back to whatever cosplay you came from.”

Castiel searched his memories of Jacob for things that may prove their sincerity. “You didn’t wear your award for months after you received it because you thought it was too gaudy. Then, one day while you were looking for your watch, you saw it and decided to put it on. It has been around your neck for months now, and it still feels comfortable; as if it belongs there.” Castiel reached into his pocket and retrieved Dean’s necklace. “The reason it feels natural is because you were picking up residual memories from me. This,” he placed Dean’s necklace on the kitchen table, “Was worn around Dean’s neck since he was a young boy. It was a gift from Sam.”

Jacob was biting his lip, his free hand clenched around the ring dangling from his neck. “If what you’re saying is true, then why…”

Castiel didn’t wait for Jacob to voice the rest of his thought; he was projecting loud enough for Castiel to pick his thoughts up. “The necklace glows hot in God’s presence. I am searching for God, in the hopes that He will stop the Apocalypse or at least assist us in stopping it.”

Sam seemed to understand what Castiel was trying to do, and added, “When did you start dressing like us? Like hunters?”

Jacob glanced down at himself, as though seeing his clothing for the first time. “Last year, I think. I…”

“You had nightmares,” Castiel said, remembering that he couldn’t stop his memories from bleeding over into Jacob’s subconscious. “I regret that I could not stop them from occurring.”

“Nightmares?” Dean inquired. “Aw, hell, Cas. _My_ nightmares?”

Castiel glared at him. “No. Not…entirely. They were of Hell, but they were of my finding you and rescuing you from the Pit.”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “Peachy.”

“And what’s with all the ghost-detecting equipment downstairs?” Sam inquired. At Dean’s raised eyebrows, he continued, “He’s got an EM detector, an infrared scanner, a digital recorder and thermal imager.”

Jacob shifted on his chair and looked guilty. “I got a new hobby, okay?”

Dean caught on first. “You’re hunting? Are you out of your freaking _mind_? You’re just an egghead with no training. You could have gotten yourself killed!”

“It was only a few times,” Jacob defended himself weakly. “I needed the empirical proof of EM spikes when demons were present. I couldn’t take this to my listeners without proof. What kind of scientist would I be if I didn’t do all the research that I could?”

It was Sam who spoke first, “Dean, he’s right. It was the next logical step for him. He didn’t know the danger he was getting into.”

Dean huffed and Castiel felt the beginning of a fight brewing between the brothers. “Figures an egghead would stick up for an egghead.”

“Dean. Sam,” Castiel interrupted. “We must decide what to do with Jacob. He needs to be moved to a safe location.”

“He needs to be trained to defend himself,” Dean muttered, “If he’s going to continue to be an ass.”

“Hey, you’re in _my_ house, _you_ _ass_. So stop talking about me like I’m not here and tell me what I need to do. I don’t want to run across another of those things,” Jacob indicated the still unconscious woman, who Sam had thoughtfully moved onto the living room couch. “And not be prepared.”

Castiel shut his eyes as if sight pained him, as Dean launched into a tirade. “Prepared? Oh, let me tell you about being prepared, buck-o. Rock salt and iron deter just about anything supernatural. But demons? Demons don’t stop for _shit._ ”

“Dean, that’s enough!” Castiel bellowed, causing Dean to jump slightly. “We aren’t here to scare Jacob; we’re here to help him. If he were any other civilian, you wouldn’t be treating him like this. Just because he and my vessel look alike…”

Dean was on his feet and shoving back from the table in a heartbeat. “You know what? You can shove your _Parent Trap_ trick show. I’m going to check the perimeter.”

Castiel watched Dean leave, unaware that he was frowning until Sam’s touch drew his attention. “Cas. You know Dean; he’ll be back and pretend like nothing’s wrong.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, Sam,” Castiel admitted, staring down at the tabletop.

“Will someone explain to me what just happened?” Jacob asked as he stared intently at Castiel. “Because it looked to _me_ like Dean was raging some serious jealousy my way, and I’d like to know why.”

Castiel teleported outside before he could hear Sam answer, and wound up directly in front of Dean.

“Is that you, Cas? Or you got another vessel you need to tell me about?”

Castiel couldn’t help it; he sighed. “I regret that all of this has transpired, Dean, but now we must deal with circumstances as they are. Jacob has been made aware of the supernatural world, and we should do our best to train him to deal with it. I don’t want to see him die when I could haven prevented it.”

Dean’s eyes stayed sharp on the neighborhood as he asked, “You really care for this guy, don’t you?”

“I have empathy for Jimmy because he is my true vessel. We share many traits because of this. Jacob –“ Castiel looked heavenward, though it was a habit more than prayer – “I was – forced – on Jacob. He consented in a dream, and by Heaven’s standards, that was enough to allow me to be forced into him. I was dormant that entire time, Dean. I had no voice or control; only my thoughts. Jacob is the victim, Dean. He asked for none of this, and now his life is being destroyed because of what Heaven – what I – did to him.”

“That sucks,” seemed to sum up everything for Dean, and Castiel bristled at the nonchalant attitude.

“It does more than ‘suck’, Dean. It was a violation, and I could do _nothing_. It was my punishment, but Jimmy’s family paid the price. Jacob _is_ paying the price. How many more people have to suffer because of my disobedience?” Castiel was filled with anger and had to turn away as his control began to slip.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was timid, a word he never would have thought to apply to anything Dean did or said.

“What?” he growled as he turned around, and found his mouth otherwise occupied by Dean’s, pressed gently against it.

When Dean pulled back, Castiel just stared, trying to figure out the man before him. “What was that for?”

Dean shrugged but looked pleased. “You looked like you could use a good kiss.”

Something warmed inside him and Castiel tried a new vocal tone: coy. “Was that a good kiss?”

=-=-=-=-=

Castiel and Dean returned to Jacob’s kitchen a few moments later, Dean looking a bit more rumpled than when he’d left. Castiel didn’t realize it, but he was more rumpled than usual.

Sam snickered and Jacob raised his eyebrows. “Um, guys, was _now_ really the appropriate time to kiss and make up? I mean, with demons swarming and all that shit?”

“Relax, dude, They’re not swarming. Maybe you’ll get lucky and that’s the only one who knew where you lived.”

Sam choked on his own spit as he started laughing. “Dean, you’re killing me. Just – stop with the innuendo.”

“ _What_ innuendo? Dude, you’re losing your mind.”

Castiel felt a smirk curl his mouth and whispered in Dean’s ear, “I believe Sam was referring to your comment about getting ‘lucky’.”

Dean had the grace to flush. Really, really flush. If his _toes_ weren’t red, then Jacob would swear off all things scientific the rest of his life. “Now that we’ve all kissed and made up…” Castiel cleared his throat, but was ignored, “Can you please train me so I don’t end up comatose in a hospital after going on a killing spree?”

Sam and Dean sobered up and outlined what Jacob needed to know about Devil’s traps, salt, iron, silver, and even handed over a copy of the anti-possession tattoo drawing.

Jacob, however, balked at actually owning a gun. “No way. I’ve never fired one and I don’t intend to. There’s got to be other ways to stop these things.”

Sam put it bluntly, “The tattoo will stop you from being possessed, and an exorcism will send them back to Hell, but they might keep coming. And if they catch you, they can still torture you.”

“The most expedient manner to keep demons away from you is to stop talking about them,” Castiel said, voicing what was on everyone’s mind. “They like the attention. If you stop talking about them, they should leave you alone.”

“And stop giving out hunters’ locations,” Dean added. “We get in enough shit without you directing all the baddies to where we’re fighting.”

Jacob sighed and tossed the napkin he’d been shredding toward the trash can. “All right. I’ll keep this to myself, but don’t think for one minute that I’m going to stop researching. This stuff is too fascinating.”

“Research your heart out; just don’t share with anyone,” Dean advised.

For the third time that night, Castiel caught Dean’s gaze as it slid over Jacob’s entire body, and grew very, very annoyed. “Dean.”

“What?” Dean whined. “I can’t help it; he looks just like you.”

Sam groaned and beat a hasty retreat into the basement.

“I’m not getting into some kinky threesome with an angel,” Jacob warned, though his face was flushed and his eyes were huge.

“No one is asking you to,” Castiel informed him, then teleported himself and Dean outside Jacob’s house.

“Behave yourself, Dean, or you will get no dessert.”

“What the hell does dessert…” Dean began, then broke off into a low moan as Castiel murmured, “Angel food cake.”

The End


End file.
